Thankyou, Sherlock!
by SherlockedSherlockian
Summary: John gets his priorities mixed up, and makes a mistake which Sherlock finds hurtful. When John regrets his decision and is suffering the consequences, will Sherlock help? After all, why should he? Read with whichever goggles you wish.


**Thank you, Sherlock!**

"Thanks for coming, Sherlock," Lestrade nodded, showing the brilliant detective to the scene of the crime. Sherlock flashed a brief smile and followed, with John beside him. Just as they reached the house, John's phone beeped. Pulling it out of his pocket, he looked at it. It was from his work colleague, Doctor Jacob Larson, who was asking to meet him at the nearby bar for a drink. "I assure you that you won't be disappointed if you stay," Sherlock remarked, and John only just noticed the tinge of hopefulness in his voice. How had the detective known what the text had said? _Insufferable man, _John thought to himself, _I don't even care how he knows! He can't expect me to follow him around for hours on end…I have a life!_

With that on his mind, he shrugged. "I know, Sherlock, but I think catching up with Jacob will be appealing enough for me. Safer, too, and at least I'll have someone to talk to." John realised what his words had sounded like when he caught the hurt expression on his friend's face. It was only there for a second, but John had seen it. He shook his head desperately, "No, Sherlock, I – " "John, if you're going, please don't walk in any further. I don't need extra unnecessary footprints to be added to those on the ground that has been trampled on by the perpetrator and a dozen inefficient policemen since." with that, the handsome, dark-haired man had disappeared into the house. John bit his lip, feeling guilty.

It was about two hours later, and Jacob had just left after about three pints of beer with John. John knew he should be going too, but he felt as if he couldn't face the consulting detective after what he'd done. Surely a couple more drinks wouldn't matter? He'd pass the time until Sherlock (or rather John himself) had forgotten about the incident at the crime scene. But a 'couple' more drinks soon turned into around a _dozen _more.

John's head pounded as he tried to sit up. His stomach felt queasy and his thoughts clouded. Had he been drugged? Poisoned? Then he remembered. The text. Jacob. The pub.

He blinked and looked around. He was in his own bed. What had happened? How had he gotten back home to the flat from the pub? He groaned, and an instant later he had his answer. A slim figure clad in a fitting purple shirt hurried to sit his side, the expression on the sharp-featured face concerned. "John! Are you alright?" Sherlock whispered softly, eyes anxiously studying the doctor's face.

John closed his eyes briefly. "Sherlock, I'm so sorry," he sighed, and felt a warm, firm hand upon his own shaking one. "Does your head hurt?" the voice was kind and understanding, and John instantly felt both reassured and forgiven. "Sherlock, I need you so much," John mumbled, nestling into the sweet-smelling shirt as he felt Sherlock's arms wrap around him. "I'm right here. I've got you." Nothing in the world could have made John feel safer and better than those six words. He smiled. "Thank you for finding me. How did you know I needed you?" "I had my suspicions – then when you didn't answer a text with the word 'danger' in it, I _really _knew something was up." at this, both men burst into laughter.

John instantly regretted the decision. His whole body protested and he failed to stifle a painful moan. "Here, lie back down," Sherlock instructed gently, and John complied. With that, the detective ran his beautifully artistic fingers through his best friend's hair, melting away the agony and fogginess. John smiled contentedly. "I'm an idiot, Sherlock," he added, at length. The detective raised an inquiring eyebrow, the corners of his mouth twitching upward ever so slightly.

"What I said before, I didn't mean it, I – " "John." "I was tired from a long day at work, I really wasn't feeling myself…" "John." "I just want you to know that nothing will ever be as exhilarating as being on a case with you – not only because of the case itself, but because I'm with _you_ – " "_John_!" the doctor looked up, "John, it's fine, it's all fine. I care about you and know you better than you know yourself. Like I said, it's _all _fine." he smiled affectionately.

John grinned helplessly and pulled Sherlock closer, locking him into a tight embrace. "I know." he murmured, "Thank you, Sherlock."


End file.
